Toni Petti - Horse Girl Homicide

Chapter One

On the crest of the next hill, at the end of a long snaking drive, is a big red barn with the words Brummel Equestrian in white letters. The facility dwarfs the farmhouse, which is smaller than I'd imagined and hidden by oak trees, the white columns on the front porch can only just be glimpsed through heavy branches. All around us are grassy hills and dark brown horses graze in pasture by the roadside. Google Earth's satellite maps have already revealed to me how there's a kidney-shaped swimming pool and guest cabins behind the house, and horseback riding trails in a conservation area at the back of the property.

"Stop the car!" Ainsley Chan points at the farm, "I want to shoot an introduction." My Chinese-Canadian friend clips a lavaliere microphone to her collar and turns on the RF transmitter.

"Alright. You're the director," I remind myself not to be offended. "But I thought we're being covert?"

"We are," Ainsley glances at the red barns. "Up there."

"Not out here?"

"Not so much." My friend threads the microphone cable down through her shirt. "Anyone who sees me will just think I'm a Horse Girl doing her Instagram." She opens the passenger door and leans out to clip the electronics on her belt before she steps into the orchardgrass. "Get as wide as possible. Be sure and include the house."

I stand up through the sunroof and lean over with my elbows on the hot steel to make a tripod-steady shot. "Okay. Ready."

"I'm Ainsley Chan, Welcome to Suffering in Silence." my friend begins. As a narrator she likes to over-emphasize the last words of each sentence, which bugs me. She also leaves long gaps in her voice track which demonstrates her experience as a video editor. "Look behind me." Ainsley continues, "would you believe such a pretty ranch is one of Canada's cruelest places?" She pauses. "Today I'm going undercover, taking my dressage lessons here at Brummel Equestrian with a hidden camera." She pauses, "I'll show you how they work their horses. You'll see firsthand how they use whips, constricting saddles, and double bridles with the harshest mouth bits. I'll point out these cruelties during our lesson, which is little more than an indoctrination into a legacy of torture."

"Someone's coming," I nod toward the dust cloud in the distance.

"Alright. Enough for now," Ainsley returns to the car. "I'm just giving myself options, you know?"

"Yeah. It's smart." I want to encourage her as much as possible. This is her project and I'm just the cameraperson. Ainsley is a year older than me and fresh out of Ryerson. Her dad bought her a pony when she was younger and that's how she became a horse girl. Ainsley is all grown-up now, and this farm is where she boards her jumper, a ten-year-old thoroughbred gelding. It's also where she came to believe the whole industry is cruel to animals. I'm not convinced, but willing to help her collect the evidence. In truth, I kind of regret my decision. I'm a city girl and already eager to get back downtown. I'm an urban lifestyle YouTuber and all this open country is bad for my brand.

"Toni. Drive slow. I'll do some voice over." Ainsley switches-on my Panasonic and begins recording the tree lined entrance. She's so similar to me in her scandalmongering, neither of us can turn-it-off. The first day we met-up, the waitress told us the kitchen was out of fish and we both asked, 'what happened?'  When we see people whispering to each other, we try to guess what they're saying and we always imagine the worst possible scenarios. We're muckrakers. Ainsley saw the press I got during the Black Lives Matter protests in Toronto and she reached out. She wanted a camerawoman with balls is how she phrased her email. We met and liked each other and I signed-on for a twenty percent stake. These are her friends she's betraying, and that's some drama I have to witness. Maybe I'll publish outtakes once her documentary is released.